The Realization of Ages

Today is my sister’s birthday; 35 years old already.  Every year on this day I’m reminded of a story that has been told to me time and time again…when my parents brought my sister home from the hospital, I smacked her across the face.  Now, I don’t know if that is actually true, but that’s what I’m told.

What I do remember is that, growing up, she was not exactly fond of me, nor I her.  Especially when we got to high school.  You see, she is the athletic type and I am the “nerdy” one who was always able to write.  Often teachers would chide her, asking “why can’t you be more like your sister?”  To be fair, I’m sure my father would have said the same thing to me if it were acceptable for him to do so.  He loved her athleticism, and it showed.  As a matter of fact, he loved that all three of my siblings were athletic.  Not that he wasn’t proud of me, it was just a different kind of proud.  Then, of course, in my eyes, she was just the annoying little sister who always seemed to be around; always wanting to hang out with me and my friends.

At any rate, my sister and I have both come along way since high school.  We actually live together and vacation together every year.  Despite our differences (she’s a mess and I’m a neat freak), we really do get along very well now and I’m grateful for her every single day; yes, even when she’d prefer to play bingo than hang out with me.

Happy Birthday Laura!  Love you.


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